


Hold or Fold

by yoolee



Category: Lovestruck - Fandom, Starship Promise (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Strip Poker, perspective change, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-13 20:16:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13578174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoolee/pseuds/yoolee
Summary: In which the crew of The Promise plays a game of cards, our heroine has a crush on a grumpy pilot, and nothing  actually happens.





	1. Chapter 1

I guess after evading enemies, hacking into your government’s secret databases, fleeing bounty hunters, getting kidnapped a couple of times, and firing your first gun, you lose a little bit of your innate hesitation to new and scary things. Or something. That’s the only explanation I really have for why I agreed to this—sitting in the lounge of the Promise, gambling my left shoe over a game of cards.

Well, that and the corn whiskey. 

Expensive or not, it was  _something_. It sipped rough but it slid down smooth, something dark and strong and dizzying in its lingering taste, like I knew something similar, but the reality was just out of reach.  _Strong, rough, makes my stomach do weird acrobatic flips_ …I sighed at my cards. “Sounds like guy who drinks it.” There was a beat of silence. Several pairs of eyes were trained on me when I looked up. I felt my cheeks heat, “Oh, stars.”

Jaxon laughed, "That habit of yours would be more helpful if you told us what you’ve got in your hand." His beautiful smile went crooked, hand fluttering over his chest, "Instead of your heart."

There was a quick flash of a smile from Orion, but his tone was surprisingly gentle as he teased, "C'mon, you can’t see it on her face?"

Jaxon shot back with a smirk, eyes on me, "See what, her cards or her crush?"

 _Hubble!_ I hated that it was so obvious. Seriously, someone needed to invent a device to keep my mouth shut. 

"Flip the damn cards."  _Atlas_. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t.

Okay, maybe a peek.

Maybe a really  _long_ peek.

And an appreciative sigh. 

You know.  _Maybe_.

He was waiting, tipped back in his chair and an expression of mild annoyance in his brow, arms wrapped in an old jacket the same color as his glass of whiskey, which he seemed to down with a lot more ease than I had. Harsh, strong, hard. And yet…just on the tip of your tongue, after you tasted, the lingering of something sweet and rich and worth exploring.

"Your hand?" Nova—who hadn’t lost a stitch of clothing, of course—sounded faintly concerned. Jaxon snickered and even Orion hid the quick smirk that tugged on his lips.

Jaxon looked sympathetic. Or he would have if he weren’t laughing at me. "Wishing you were holding something else, huh? Or some _one_  el _—_ oof!" I wasn’t sure who had kicked Jaxon hard enough to shut him up, but I appreciated it. I wanted,  _really_ wanted to slam down a royal flush, but I’d been so distracted by thinking of the whiskey—thinking of  _him_ —that I forgot to fold before the flop.

My hand was worthless.

I laid it down and groaned as I obediently slid out of my shoe. I mourned it in dismay. "Farewell, sweet space boot. You served me well."

Nova smiled, that brief, light brush of pleasure that softened her eyes even as it faded swiftly back to focus. "You can have it back when the game is complete." She accepted my shoe, adding it to the rapidly growing pile of clothing articles behind her. Jaxon’s armguards, the Captain’s jacket, my shoes…Atlas’s belt. I wondered why he hadn’t bet his jacket. It’d be the last thing to go, probably. Which was a shame. If I was going to win a hand…I felt a sudden thrill of determination. I was going to stay in this until he bet it, and by all I was going to  _win_ that hand. Oh, that was probably weird, wasn't it? But, well. We were all trying to win, I was just being competitive in the spirit of things.

 _Yeah, right_.

I heard Pearl whir on my shoulder, which gave me an idea. Cards was just…statistics, probability. "I could probably program something. Wearable tech with a…a predictive program. There’s gotta be an algorithm or something."

"There is." Nova answered serenely.

"If you’re gonna cheat, keep your mouth shut about it." I flushed, but Atlas was looking at his cards, not me. He didn’t sound angry, he just sounded tired.

"No cheating on my ship." Orion murmured.

"Not your ship, captain. Your crew,  _my_  ship."  Atlas almost smiled when he said it, but there was a furrow in his brow all the same. He almost looked annoyed though I guess that could be due to the delay of game. Orion smiled, hand waving in apology that was accepted with a grunt.

Jaxon made a show of looking put out, but his eyes were dancing. "You never let  _me_ cheat, Atlas."

Nova chimed in, expression quiet as she dealt the cards with a hand as sure and steady as her voice. "He doesn’t like you as much."

I stared at her. Atlas choked on a sip of whiskey.  _Oh my hubble._ My heart leapt about a hundred feet up into my throat.  _He liked me? He really_ —I slammed a hand over my mouth in horror. "I didn’t say that out loud, did I? Did I say that out loud?"

Jaxon crowed with laughter. Atlas made a muffled, troubled sound, rubbing his head into his palm. I felt Orion’s hand clap down on my shoulder, sympathetic and sure. I looked up at him, and he shook his head. "You didn’t have to."  

Jaxon hooted, wiping a hand under his eyes as he shook. "After all we’ve been through, Atlas. Really. After all that?" He smacked a fist into Atlas’s shoulder, and the pilot looked like he wanted to bite it off, but then merely sighed, rolling his eyes upwards.

"You’re at the bottom of the list ‘cause you’re so damn  _loud_. Are we playing or not?"

Orion smiled, "Belt."

"Uh," I stammered. Lab coat or jump suit? Or, I guess I could take off what was underneath as an option too, but then if I  _did_ lose my jumpsuit…

"Tick-tock, holdin’ us up."  Jaxon seemed to have recovered from his bout of amusement.

Oh _—of course!_  "Ponytail holder!" I cried out, triumphant. I heard a snicker. "What? I’m wearing it, it counts." 

"Right shoe." Nova answered swiftly, the same bet as the last hands that she’d yet to have to pay out. I took her continuation of the betting process that mine had passed muster, and breathed a sigh of relief. 

"Shirt." Jaxon offered, a quick wink in my direction.

Atlas looked tired. "Jacket."

I felt my hands tighten on my cards, and looked at him in surprised. From the corner of my eye, I thought the other three might have exchanged a look, some kind of combat code exchange, but it’s hard to say.  _Okay, self. This is your hand. You’re winning this. He’s goin’ down._  My cards weren’t bad. I had a shot. So long as one of the others didn’t have some kind of crazy 

"On second thought," Orion offered thoughtfully. "I fold."

"Yup. Me, too." Jaxon, that time. I frowned at him, confused.

"Yes," Nova smiled, and then it was gone. "It seems that would be prudent. I do as well."

Was that weird? I looked at them all, curious, but their poker faces were far better than mind.

"You and me, kid." Atlas sounded indifferent, but I felt my spine straighten.

"You and me," I repeated. And I guess I couldn’t help but smile, because the taste of that was sweeter than any whiskey in the worlds.


	2. Atlas

Her poker face was shit.

Atlas resisted the urge to sigh, or rub his temples in frustration, because  _unlike_ her, his poker face was flawless.

Which, incidentally, was why the pile of clothing tossed behind him was finally large enough to rival Nova’s. Their resident super human may have had an uncanny knack to figure odds, but it was no match for raw bluffing and sheer luck -  both of which Atlas had his share of.

The thing was, he supposed, damned  _luck_ came in two flavors, and right now it was blisteringly hard to tell the difference between them.

Ordinarily, he’d fleece her for every credit she owned. Despite his chastising of Jaxon on going after some naïve colony girl’s allowance money, all was fair when you voluntarily sidled up to a table and laid your cards on it.

Or it would be, if  _someone_ hadn’t decided they were going to play for something other than credits.

Atlas decided it was perfectly acceptable to glower at that someone and did so with impunity. Jaxon smiled winsomely back, fluttering his lashes with unabashed amusement. “Bad hand, Atlas?”

Atlas made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a snort. 

“That’s a yes. Probably. Hard to tell, he always looks grumpy.” Jaxon shifted, and Atlas looked away, lest the cereal box the bounty hunter was using to hide his crown jewels irreparably shifted. Again. Comet was still visibly sulking about its usage from under the table, and frankly, Atlas thought their small green friend had the right of it. Socks and birthday suit was a Silva-style fashion statement Atlas could have done quite well without seeing. Ever.

If he were the sort of get distracted during a game, he might have taken a second to consider what they’d look like, if some inevitable interruption tried to call them away. Orion in his boxers, Jaxon in his socks and strategically situated cereal box, Nova nearly fully clothed – though the bulk of her armor was still in Atlas’s pile, Atlas himself in his pants and shirt, and…

And their damn engineer, sitting pretty as she pleased in nothing but her underwear and  _his_  thrice-blasted hells-be-damned pilot jacket.

How the warped hell she’d pulled a hand to beat him when he’d bet it was something he didn’t linger on, but won it she had, and she’d immediately swapped her lab coat for it once it was in her hands, ignoring the entertained snicker from their captain and wolfish whistle from their (now naked, because socks  _did not count_ ) bounty hunter.

It was damn distracting, is what it was. 

She had her own jacket (in Nova’s pile winnings, at the moment) what did she need his for? And where did she get off, letting her head fall to the side so her cheeks brushed the soft lapels, bright smile pulling at her lips in careless pleasure. Shifting so her hands disappeared into the too-large sleeves when she folded, hugging it more tightly around herself when she had a bad hand, eagerly letting it loosen when she had cards she could play.

_Distracting_ , Atlas thought again.

The  _only_ reason she wasn’t dead last was Orion and Jaxon throwing their hands to let her keep her clothes. Not that she’d noticed, but Atlas had, and leveled another flat stare at Jaxon, who was the easier of the two to get angry with. Particularly when he was tilted back in his chair, cereal box balancing precariously like an uncertain censor bar, one long, muscular arm thrown around their resident science nerd’s shoulders as he tried to whisper advice into her ear.

It was shit advice, apparently, because when Atlas laid down his cards her face fell like a crestfallen puppy.

He was damn glad for his poker face when a bit of creative shimmying (under  _his jacket_ ) ended with a scrap of green and black fabric being produced and handed over to his pile.  _Hell_. His throat felt uncomfortably dry, but he accepted it and Nova’s glove with a stone-faced expression, and wished again they were playing for credits.

“Stop trying to get our engineer naked, Jaxon.” Orion drawled, sipping his drink with a smile. He’d bowed out when he was reduced to his boxers—a sportsmanly response to gambling that was apparently beyond some of the other players.

Nova smiled, briefly, and her wink in the direction of the other girl was sympathetic. “I wouldn’t mind.”

The engineer in question flushed pink, a nervous lap bubbling through her parted lips, and Atlas bit back another sigh. 

It didn’t seem precisely fair to glare at Nova, but he did it anyway.

Jaxon held his hands wide and innocent. “I thought it was a good play!”

The victim of his poor assumptions elbowed him in the stomach. He made an exaggerated  _oof!_ sound and clutched his abs.

The cereal box wobbled, and fell to the floor.

Light brown eyes snapped immediately up, and Atlas found himself the subject of that startled, bright gaze, framed by cheeks that had gone from pale pink to startling rose. From somewhere below, Comet made an indignant noise.

For a moment, with her eyes on his, gaze wide and unsure, Atlas felt unsettled. Then he ran a distracted hand through his hair and cursed his luck. Now would be a great time for some alarm bells to blare. Union blockade. Empire scouts. Hell he’d take a fire on the bridge, as long as it didn’t hit anything essential. Weren’t those things supposed to happen with obnoxious regularity around here? 

He saw her hand fumble with something, though not her cards, and her lips move in a mumble he didn’t catch. He frowned. If she was muttering her damn odds again—

Alarms blared.

She shot to her feet, “Ohmygosh! Let’s go see what it is–!”

Atlas opened his mouth to tell her to  _put some damn clothes on before she ran off_ , but everyone was already moving, and it was  _his_ ship damnit, like hell he was going to hesitate.

He caught up to her at the bridge, and for a moment felt winded at the sight of her, leaning over his console in his jacket and not much on under—he cleared his throat.

“Report?” Orion managed to still look calm and in charge, arms crossed over his bare chest, whale-decorated boxers doing little to diminish the air of certainty.

Atlas pulled up a report, mouth open to explain but—he stopped. Frowned.

_What the hell?_

“Looks like a sensor malfunction is all,” A too-high murmur made him glance at her sharply. “I can fix it. Nothing to worry about.”

“You’re certain?” Orion was frowning too, but it was more an expression of thoughtfulness. Jaxon had gotten his pants back on, hopping in behind on foot as the other shoved through a leg, and Nova was already armed, looking to Orion for the order to stand down.

“Yup.” She nodded. “May take awhile though.”

Jaxon grinned. “Bummer, guess our game is over.”

_Luck,_ Atlas thought again. Two flavors. Exceptional and awful.

“Let us know if we can help.” Orion spoke after a moment. “Atlas?”

Atlas shrugged. The other three left, and he turned, arms crossed, brow raised.

She laughed nervously. 

Atlas felt his scowl deepen.

She shrugged, helpless, and he didn’t appreciate how his stomach flipped at the sight of it, her shoulder small and slim under the bulk of something that was  _his_. He waited. She looked away, to the side, and answered his silent question at last. “You didn’t look like you wanted to play anymore.”

“So you…what, had Pearl hack an alarm?”

“Well….” She drew the syllable out, fidgeting evasively as her gaze slid to the floor in obvious guilt. He bit back a smile. Her stare snapped back to his and he smoothed his features back into a frown. “She didn’t  _actually_  break anything! There’s nothing to worry about! Here, look—” With ruthless efficiency, she dropped to her knees and leaned under his console, and he whirled on his heel, coughing awkwardly.

She paused, and then squeaked, “Oh.”

_Nothing to worry about._   _Yeah, right_. “Just fix it.” He managed to get out, and stomped back to the living room to grab her clothes.

_New rule,_  he decided.

No strip poker on his  _damn ship._

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve only played Atlas, most of Orion and the start of Nova, so apologies if characterization is off. The MC herself is written a bit spacier–hardeehar–than she is in-game but blame extenuating circumstances. I just…I love them. I love them so much. I love how the supporting folks are THERE for MC and her love interest in every route. I love the stories. Just love. All the love. And I need to be patient and wait for tickets so this was a distraction while I did so.
> 
> Can I also just say I giggle HYSTERICALLY every time Orion's belt is mentioned?


End file.
